Intrigue
by Amber SanGiovanni
Summary: It's the fifth anneversary of Angela and Charlotte, and a mysterious woman interrupts Jane's yearly ritual. What will come of it?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is my second fic, but first Mentalist one. This chapter is very short and kind of an introductory leg. I wanted to see who would be intrigued enough to have me finish the story. So, if you want to know more about the mysterious woman, please please review.**

It was the fifth anniversary, but she didn't know that. She saw an extremely attractive man drinking bloodies at four in the afternoon. He was trying not to cry, but she didn't know that. He was depressed, but she didn't know that, at least not outright. She sat down and ordered a drink for herself, keeping an eye on the blonde in the last booth. The waitresses knew him, so he must know the people that frequent the place, if only by association.

"Excuse me, sir?" she questioned, strolling over to him. He looked at her with pain filled eyes, and she immediately regretted interrupting him, but he wasn't the type to take kindly to a never mind.

"What?" he snapped, clearly pissed. His eyes were roaming her, reading her body language, seeing straight through whatever front she put up, as were her's to him.

"Do you frequent this establishment?"

"You might say that..." he paused. "What federal agency do you work for?"

The man had expected her to look shocked, she wasn't. She hadn't been trying to hide it, but he was certainly observant.

"FBI." she answered evenly. "And yourself?"

"State, not federal, but CBI"

"So, Mr. CBI, could I ask you a few questions."

"Haven't exactly given me a choice have we?"

"I suppose not. I'm looking for an Italian mobster known to frequent this bar. You're clearly quite perceptive, have ya seen him?"

"I don't frequent this place as often as you think..."

"eh!" she tried to cut him off.

"And don't say the waitresses know me so I must come here all the time. To be honest, I've been here exactly six times."

"Fine. You have no idea what I'm talking about and I'm clearly wasting your depression-grief-binge time." The man sucked in a breath at that, seeing how obvious what he was doing was. "goodbye Mr...?"

"Jane."

"Mr. Jane." she nodded and walked out as smoothly as she could. For whatever reason, she was curious, and wanted to look into him further, how does one go to a bar less than ten times and everyone knows him? Unless...that look in his eyes, it was one she'd seen before. On her father, when _his_ wife and daughter had been murdered.

**Like I said, not very long or detailed. However it's kind of a hook to draw people in. Was it effective? Tell me what you think in a review!**

**Thanks, Amber**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, I was really losing steam with this, and was thinking of leaving it as a one shot, but I received a PM from ****aurora15198** **asking me to tell what happens next, and it really inspired me to keep writing. So here ya go!**

FBI Special Agent Rosemary St. John sat in a tiny cubical at their San Francisco office. She was a DC resident, but had traveled to California on a mafiosi case. Without her usual databases full of information, she resorted to googling her Mr. Jane. However many Janes there were in the world, a CBI agent didn't seem to be one of them.

_The lying bastard! _She hissed under her breath. Rose sat thinking about the blond man in the bar. He hadn't been carrying a gun, she had made note of that as soon as she layed eyes on him. Didn't have a badge earlier, but he was law enforcement something or other, he had to be. Rose closed her eyes and pictured him.

_Damn he was hot! No, no wrong train of thought. He's drinking bloody mary's. That's a late-Sunday-morning drink, not a Thursday evening drink. Significance? He was clearly in pain, clouded, red rimmed eyes, desperation, guilt, regret, love? Perceptive, and smart, arrogant...a consultant?_

Thoughts flying through her head, gears turning. She was about to look him up at the CBI when her phone rang, caller ID read restricted. She answered.

"Mr. Jane I presume?"

"Hello Miss FBI." a familiar voice spoke, amused and more sober than it had been the first time she'd heard it.

"Mr. Jane, you failed to mention you were only a consultant in our conversation yesterday."

"You didn't ask."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Why, may I ask, are you calling me?"

"I was curious."

"About?"

"Why you of course! Come down here and have a cup of tea, ask the guard to show you to Lisbon's office."

She was about to ask the man if he meant the famous St. Theresa Lisbon, but he had already hung up the phone.

When she arrived, Rose easily found the biggest office in the building, and her mysterious blonde. Jane hugged her as if he had known her for forever. Rose, dumbfounded, but not taken-a-back, watched over her shoulder as a petite woman came up and crossed her arms, scowling at Jane.

Rose broke out of the hug, "Agent Lisbon I presume?" she asked sticking out a hand, "Agent St. John, FBI."

"Oh..." she stuttered, dumbfounded. "I...uh...I've heard of you."

"I bet you have." she laughed. "Mr. Jane here had invited me for some tea and a chat. Do you need him?"

"No, I suppose not, as long as he's not bothering you."

Jane walked out and back in, unnoticed by the two women. He slipped a delicious cup of tea into Rose's hand glared at Lisbon from behind.

"Not at all, he makes for interesting conversation. Should I be bothered by him?"

"Most sane people are."

"Most people who work for the federal government aren't one hundred percent sane, Ms. Lisbon."

"Touche." she nodded and walked out, rolling her eyes and swishing her hips as she left. _Dear god _she thought, _she won't think he's interesting in about half an hour. _

It was then that Lisbon rallied the troops for a case, and cleared out, headed for a crime scene. Patrick and Rose were left alone in the empty bullpen.

"You clearly have a reputation, I've never met anyone who could talk Lisbon out of corralling me." He cocked his head, like a curious dog.

"I'm a damn good federal agent, simple as that, or at least I'd like it to be. I do a lot of high profile stuff, close a lot of cases, and I do it for the personal gratification, but I've been turned into kind of a celebrity. I'm like an agent for hire. If someone has a hard case, anywhere in the world, I get called up to solve it. Your little Lisbon is scared of me." She tried to explain.

"Why should she be scared of you?" he asked. A question Rose dreaded.

"Because I'm not just known as a case closer. I'm also a problem solver, I'm also known as a spy and an assassin."

"Oh..." he trailed off, almost scared.

Rose put her hands up in the air and smiled. "I'm not going to hurt you, Mr. Jane, I promise"

He continued to eye her curiously. "You don't like being a celebrity much do you?"

"No. I would love to to work in a generic police department full time, or a smaller agency, but the majority of the time, those kind of places are incompetent, I'd be bored."

"Not here!" he protested.

"No, Mr. Jane, I might actually fit here. I've looked at some of your cases, exceptional work I must say." He blushed only slightly, but a blush it was. She smiled sweetly and let her long, dark hair fall in her face as she began to uselessly fidget with her jacket. Both knew that it was worthless to keep sitting there, but neither wanted to leave the others company. Patrick poked Rose in the kidney to try to get her attention, and she tensed, ticklish. She knew she hadn't covered her reaction up enough when he made a childish face at her and lunged, continuing to tickle her. Rose, laughing uncontrollably, managed to get a hold of the only thing she could find, Jane's hair. She pulled him toward her, kidding initially, and then - when he dropped one hand to her hip and another to her hair, pulling her toward himself- their lips met. Hesitantly at first, and then more passionately and sure of themselves, they kissed,and a spark-full kiss it was. He pulled away first, and looked down at her, a slight smile twitching on his lips. Her big brown eyes met his sharp blue ones, and she looked curiously at him, knowing she had enjoyed what occurred. He just stood and admired her, she was very beautiful, olive skin, dark hair and eyes, petite yet shapely. As short as he was, she was proportionally shorter, his hands landed perfectly at the small of her back while they stood, wondering together.

**A/N: So that's that. I hope whoever reads this enjoys it, reviews are greatly welcomed :) Let me know if I should keep updating! **

**-A. SanGiovanni**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Wow! Sorry for such a long update time. I hope someone is still following the story out there! I just get so busy with school and everything... oh my. Anyway, heres the continuation right after Jane and Rose's adorable (or what I find adorable) kiss.**

"I suppose I should probably go..." Rose mumbled, becoming aware of all the eyes in the office glancing at them, Jane's hands still at her waist.

"We'll have dinner sometime." Jane said aloud, more of a statement than a question.

Rose, unsure of his intentions, muttered something and walked out of the bullpen. She ran into the team rushing in with fresh crime scene photos. In all the rush, she was pushed back where she came from, and ended up sitting next to Jane on his little leather couch, analyzing the evidence Lisbon was tacking to the board. She could feel Jane watching her through the slit in his otherwise closed eyes, but this was her ball park, solving cases. So, she kept flipping through files, kept thinking, connecting, gears turning. She sat with the team late into the night, drinking coffee, eating Chinese, all the typical case stuff, what would be work not worth the meager pay to most people, was a favorite past time to Rose, and she basked in it. Basked in that stuffy office, a layer of grime and grease and tiredness growing over her and the rest of the team, as the time since they last showered and slept increased. Finally, around one in the morning, she found the key to it all she had been looking for. One solitary detail that screwed over everyone's alibis and witness accounts.

"The father!" Rose exclaimed, and everyone jumped out of their daze to hear what she had to say. Jane just smiled, he knew she was right as soon as she said it; furthermore, she had reached the conclusion before he did.

Jane looked at her, wondering. That was a fairly simple case, but she was in her element. How would she fare with a more complex case? A serial killer perhaps? He didn't have a terrible amount of time to think, before Lisbon rallied the team to go pick up the perp.

* * *

Upon arriving at the house, it was clear something was amiss. The two women led, flanked by Cho and Rigsby. Jane, the only one unarmed, slipped in behind them.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Cl...AHHHH" Rose shrieked from the bedroom as a large man grabbed her around the neck, how she had missed him, she hadn't a clue, but she'd dropped her gun in the process. Her specialty training kicking into high gear, she fought back. Hard. The man was 20 years ex-military, so said his file. But he certainly hadn't let any of his training go over the course of being a civilian. He was three times Rose's size, the only advantage she had was being small and agile. She could hold him off, but not forever. Lisbon was only in the next room, and came running when she heard Rose scream.

"Duck!" she yelled, banking on Rose's reaction time to be instantaneous. It was, and Lisbon fired, nailing the man right between the eyes. Rose was on her back on the floor, disheveled and slightly damaged. "Agent St. John," Lisbon nodded, offering Rose a hand.

"Agent Lisbon," Rose nodded back, taking it and standing up.

* * *

They returned to the office, major paperwork to fill out, of course. Lisbon remained in the bullpen rather than returning to her office like usual. She eyes Jane and Rose on his little couch. He was caring and worried about her. She was clearly in more pain than she was telling, it had certainly been a hard fight. He was... was... She couldn't quite think of the word. He was... doting. _Ugghh_ Lisbon inwardly groaned. _Doting. Doting! Whats with that? He usually doesn't give a damn, or at least doesn't act like it. Well, I guess this little flower is just his next curiosity. It'll pass, she'll go home and he'll be back to Patrick in a day or two. _She got up, flustered, and strutted into her office.

A few minutes later, Rose got up, gingerly, and knocked on Lisbon's door. "Hey," she said, leaning on the door frame like Jane always did, "I wanted to thank you for what you did back there, I know killing the guy doesn't help your success rate much," she paused, and they both smirked, "but still, thank you. It's been a long time since anyone's been good enough to get me out of a situation like that. You're damn good Lisbon."

St. Theresa sat dumbfounded as Rose walked out, calmly, not strut, no hip swing, no tension. In the world of feds, 'damn good' was the best honor one could receive, it held more meaning than could be put into words.

Jane, on the couch, knew what had transpired. _Looks like 'my little Lisbon' has earned Rose's respect tonight. That aught to make it a bit easier... Wait... what exactly is "it?"_

**A/N: So! Theres a chapter for you! Following some advice of azureblue16. Thanks a ton! I enjoyed working in those suggestions. Give me some feedback pleaaaase! All of you guys! I should update shortly, again sorry for the terrible wait! **

**-A. SanGiovanni**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi there! I know I keep promising updates and then they take forever, and I apologize. Here's the next chapter, and I'm really proud of this one! Read and Review please!**

Lisbon knew that she had gotten what she wanted from Rose. She needed her respect before anything else. In her head, the terms for hiring someone were as follows: Be good at your job, Respect the boss, and Hold Patrick's approval. In that order. Rose had most certainly done all three. And Lisbon needed a leash on Jane. Someone who could get to him, control him. But also someone who could care about him and help him air his dirty laundry. Rose seemed like the perfect fit. So, she filled out the proper paperwork and brought the proposition to Rose, in front of everyone, just to ensure she said yes. She had become close with the team the past week, and wouldn't want to disappoint them.

"Agent Saint John, I'd like to offer you a job."

"Terms?" Rose asked, unenthused, but secretly excited, and without looking up.

"You'd be an agent on my team. Act exactly as you have this week. I don't know what you're being paid now…"

"Pay isn't an issue." Rose cut her off.

"Please Rose!" Grace chimed in. Rose smiled and blushed a little. Grace was like a little kid, so adorable. Smart, but adorable.

"Yes. Yes Agent Lisbon, I'll take it." Rose nodded curtly. She had intended to make Lisbon think she didn't want it as much as she did, just as Lisbon had wanted Rose to not realize that she would've begged for her to take it.

As soon as Lisbon was back in her office, Patrick grabbed Rose around the waist from behind and squeezed. A much more public display of affection than he'd shown anyone in a long time. She smiled and patted his arms; he smiled into her back, so that no one else could see.

Rose knew she wanted her and Patrick's flirtation to go somewhere, but she was sick of waiting for him. So, when the team left the bullpen, she followed him to his car.

"Patrick Jane!" she called, as he turned around. "Are you ever going to ask me to date you or not?"

He grimaced, internally cried. He knew he had to show her. He had to tell her before she tried to get close to him. He knew she had a theory about him being broken and having a dark past, but she had never gotten too many details. She had to know. Know so she wouldn't break his heart.

"Get in the car" was all he said, and she complied, wondering.

They drove about an hour, and Rose kept her mouth shut, watching the tears well up in his eyes and him bite them back every few minutes. They finally stopped at a beautiful beach house in Malibu, and Rose wondered some more. Patrick opened the door to a home that had once been beautiful, but was now worn and dusty. Rose took easy notice of the small child's bike in the far corner and the picture of the woman in the white dress on the mantle, complimentary to the wedding band he always wore. He didn't speak, but simply climbed the stairs and entered the master bedroom.

It took all Rose's will to stifle a gasp. The room was dark except for the moonlight trickling in through the dingy window. The bed and furniture were in plastic covers. There was a mattress on the floor: but neither pillow nor blanket. A mattress, underneath the huge, red smiley face, painted in what her eyes could only decipher as blood. Rose stood there, gears turning.

_I know I've seen this before, I know I've heard the name Jane before. But where….?_

"Red John." Jane said simply. That was all Rose needed to know, she'd read about the case, used it to teach a group of profilers coming into the agency, she knew that case well, but had never made the connection to the victims.

"This is where I sleep. This is all I have. This is what you need to know before you commit to even one night. This is what I have to leave at your feet if you want me. I… I'm broken. I have nothing good to offer you. I wouldn't blame you if you left now."

"Patrick," she replied, in a softer voice than he'd heard since the last night with Angela, "I do want you. I accept this. I know we've only known each other for a week, but I'm going to be around for as long as Lisbon wants me, and as long as you want me. I understand what I'm getting myself into, and I don't care. I knew you were broken from the moment I met you, and I never once let that decide for me. I want to help you, if you'll let me."

He nodded, and began to cry. "Oh sweetie!" Rose exclaimed, "come on, let's go for now." She grabbed his hand and led him to the car. He gladly gave over the keys, something she suspected he rarely did with his little French import. She drove to her little apartment and made him some tea. They sat on her little couch all night, and he told her his sad, sad story.

* * *

"I used to be a psychic. A fake one. I was a carnie, and my father used my intelligence to make money. I met another carnie. Angela Ruskin. She was different, and we both hated the life we had. So we left. We escaped. Together.

"Eventually we got married, and I kept up with the charade of being a psychic. I had a client base, and 10 years ago I was asked to go on a talk show and channel Red John, the serial killer, as I'm sure you know, and tell the public about him. I did. Made it up about him being evil and everything. I came home to find the house exactly how you saw it. With two exceptions. There was a note on the bedroom door about how he disliked that I'd bad mouthed him and the bodies of my…. Of my girls, Angela and Charlotte, dead. Slaughtered.

"It was my fault. They died because of me. I spent a while in a mental facility, and eventually decided that I would get him. So I applied for a job with Lisbon, who had the case, and I've been there ever since.

This took only an hour to tell, with periodic bits of crying and sitting, quietly and in mourning. The rest of the night was spent with small stories and memories being told. Told of a happier time, to the outside world, they were simply what a man remembered. But to Patrick, they were the world.

That night was the last night of darkness Patrick had, the last night of crying and hoping for daylight. Because he knew, better than even Rose did yet, no matter how much she wanted to help him, that she would be his guide now, his light at the end of that dark tunnel. His sunshine.

**And there you go! Hope you enjoyed! Please Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey look! A quick update! Haha, so this is a pretty exciting chapter, please Read and Review.**

Patrick had finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep for a few hours after pouring his heart out- the grief had exhausted him. Rose milled around her apartment, pondering. She knew he was broken, she had known from the moment that she saw him in that bar. He had been there exactly 6 times, 6 years since they'd died. That day was the anniversary of Angela and Charlotte's death. He drank Bloody Mary's because they were red. At 4pm because that's when his episode of the talk show aired. _Patrick Jane doesn't do anything without reason, does he?_

"Rose?" Patrick called from the living room. She had just gotten showered and dressed for work. She walked to the next room and sat down and started to load her weapon for the work day ahead on the coffee table. He cringed, remembering something she had told him a while back.

"You... you used to kill people for a living?" He asked, almost scared.

Thinking quickly, she replied "not quite. I used to be an FBI major case agent. Murders, kidnappings, and the like. However, I was also very very good, the best in fact, at participating in highly sensitive covert operations and assassinations, yes. But that wasn't my main job until the last few years of my career as an FBI agent. I didn't much like killing people, although I never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. They were all terrorists and foreign operatives and such, no innocent women or children or anything. But I wasn't a big fan of it nonetheless, and put in my resignation. At that point I was world famous as a fantastic investigator and operative: that's what twenty years in the agency gets you I suppose, and other agencies and police departments would ask me to solve tough cases for them. That's how I met you."

"I wasn't implying that you were anything like Red John, but thank you for the long winded, panicked answer." He retorted with that signature Jane smirk. "I meant about Red John, how hard would it be to kill him?"

"For you or me?" She answered, not at all phased by the implication of revenge.

"Me, preferably." He answered.

"Well," she said, "The easiest way to do it would be to shoot him, can you fire a gun with any sort of accuracy?"

"I've never touched a fire arm in my life."

"Hmmm." she said thoughtfully. Rose certainly wasn't going to offer him an outlet to kill someone, no matter how bad of a person they were and how easily they could get out of a court conviction with all their network of brainwashed people. But if her were to ask her to learn to shoot recreationally, well who was she to refuse?

"You're the first person who hasn't tried to talk me out of killing him." Patrick whispered.

"You're not the first man I've been close to who has lost his wife and daughter." she answered.

"Well who then?" He asked, Jane's curiosity outweighing Patrick's respect.

"My father, well, my uncle, but he'd been like my father my whole life and raised me after my mother died. His wife witnessed a drug crime and was killed along with his daughter for testifying while he was away on deployment. Needless to say, being a military sniper..." she trailed off.

"Ah." was all Jane said.

With nothing more to say, Jane showered and they went into work, as if nothing had happened the night before, and with as good of actors as both of them were, no one even noticed a difference.

* * *

"Case, gear up." Lisbon chimed from the edge of the bull pen. Per routine, guns were holstered and notepads collected. After taking the long drive to the murder scene, which was inconvientally placed in the middle of nowhere with only one one-way road leading to it, and getting a general idea of what had occurred, Jane, via the smell of the corpse, pinned a possible suspect. The neighbor in the next motel room, who happened to be a hooker. Jane, Lisbon and Rose returned to the motel to question this woman, little to be known that she was being watched by her pimp at all times, and 3 cops walking into where she was staying was never a good sign. He sent out a bit of muscle to take a look.

Rose and Lisbon had just sat down to question the hooker, whose name was Glitter, and Jane had only begun snooping, when there was a knock at the door. Lisbon got up to answer it. As soon as she opened the door, two large men wielding weapons began shooting. Glitter hid in the other room with Jane, and Lisbon had been hit almost immediately. That left Rose. In three calculated and extremely accurate shots, she took both men out and shot the video camera that she figured the pimp had left on the bookshelf. She them immediately ran to Lisbon.

Theresa was on the floor, had taken two to the Kevlar vest, and one to the lower abdomen/hip area. She was bleeding profusely and must've been in a lot of pain, although she was being as tough as ever and just gritting her teeth.

"JAAAANE!" Rose hollered. He rushed in, and almost ran out seeing his Lisbon bleeding like she was. "Call 911!" she yelled. Rose took a sheet off the bed and bunched it up, holding it tight to Lisbon's hip.

"You're gonna be okay Lisbon, just stay with me, concentrate on me and listen to me talk."

"Rose." Jane sighed, "The police say there was a huge semi on semi accident on the one damn road to get here, its going to be at least 3 hours before any ambulance can get out here."

"Fine." Rose said.

"FINE!?" Jane cut her off, "LISBON IS BLEEDING ON THE FLOOR OF A FILTHY MOTEL ROOM AND WE CANT GET AN AMBULANCE FOR 3 HOURS! HOW IS THAT FINE!?"

"Strip the bed and help me move her, grab her feet and be careful. You," she ordered, now addressing the hooker, "boil some water, and find me the first aid kit, every motel has one, and bring me a pair of tweezers as well." The woman complied, terrified, and Patrick sat pale-faced on the chair across the room, eyes closed and still, but Rose knew he was silently worrying.

Glitter returned with all the things Rose had requested, and Rose picked up the guns from the floor. They were generic 45's, not bad at all.

Rose put on some latex gloves out of the first aid kit, removed the Kevlar vest, and wiggled Lisbon's shirt up so she could see the wound. The bullet was still there, and wedged pretty well. She knew she couldn't just pry it out. "Lisbon honey?" Theresa looked up weakly. "This is going to hurt, but I want you to trust me and try to stay still, okay?" She nodded.

Rose pulled out her pocket knife and flicked it open, and she knew at that noise Patrick was now intently watching her. She dipped it in the hot water for sterilization and made two incisions criss- crossing the round bullet wound. She then pulled the skin back and sterilized the tweezers the same way. Reaching in with expert precision, she grabbed the slug and pulled it out without so much as a twitch from Lisbon.

"I've got a problem." Rose said, concerned. "It nicked an artery, I can't stop the bleeding with a bandage." Temporarily applying pressure to the wound, she thought for a moment. Then looked at Glitter's perfectly curled hair. "Glitter," she asked, "You've got a curling iron, don't you? Get it for me." The woman gulped, but complied without reluctance.

"Jane, I know you're squeamish, but I need you to hold Lisbon down for this. Lisbon, I know you're tough, but this is gonna hurt."

Rose plugged in and turned on the iron, it was very thin, perfect for an impromptu cauterization. She set it as hot as it would go, and gently slid it into the bullet hole, turning it ever so slightly. Lisbon squirmed some under Jane, but he had a good grip on her.

After a few seconds, Rose pulled out the iron and traced the X that she had cut into Lisbon's skin, and applied the burn cream from the first aid kit. She then bandaged Lisbon up and gave her a few shots of whiskey that was in the mini fridge. Lisbon almost immediately fell asleep, her body shocked from the wound and improvised surgery.

* * *

Rose told Glitter that she could go, the CBI wasn't concerned with a prostitution case today, and she was fairly certain the hooker hadn't been the killer. She quickly left. Patrick just stared at Rose, they sat in silence for a good hour.

"I guess in the two weeks I've worked here, I failed to mention that while I was working part time at the FBI as a trainee agent, I was also attending medical school. I never really practiced and used my Oncology major or Psychiatry minor, fixing bullet wounds in the field was really all I did after my residency at the VA ended." She explained quickly, finally hearing sirens in the distance.

The EMT's walked in slowly, expecting a dead gun shot victim. What else does one expect after three hours? They were extremely surprised to see the clearly alive, sleeping Lisbon.

"I'll ride with Lisbon to the hospital, it's my handiwork. Here's my keys Jane, go back and explain what happened to the team."

The ride to the hospital was uneventful. Rose didn't tell the EMT's what she'd done, and they didn't ask. The ER doctor who saw Lisbon prescribed only fluids and a pint of blood for her.

"Is this your work?" The doctor asked.

"It is. Sterilized pocket knife and tweezers, a curling iron and 3 shots of whiskey." She replied.

"Well, you did a good job. You got the whole bullet judging from the X-ray, and it doesn't look like there will be any infection or internal bleeding. I doubt I could've done better in an OR."

Rose smiled weakly. "Thanks. This is really all a federal agent uses a medical degree for anyhow."

The doctor, slightly frightened, excused himself. At that moment, Lisbon woke up.

"Hey there!" Rose said.

"Hi." Lisbon grumbled. "Where am I? What happened?"

"Hospital. You were shot by a pimp's goons. And the hooker wasn't the killer, so says Jane. How do you feel?"

"Like I've been shot, apparently."

"I know the feeling. I patched you up though."

"I know, that I remember. I knew your file said you were a doctor, I guess I just never thought about it."

Rose just smiled. It was hard to go to school and learn to be a fed at the same time, let alone practice and be on the job at the same time. "I never really practiced, but I keep up with the medical journals and stuff. I figure when I get too bored, too injured or too old to be an agent that I'll utilize my medical license then."

"So is this just how it's gonna be?" Lisbon asked, "Us trading off on saving each others lives?"

Knowing that, from a cop, a question like that translated to 'thank you', Rose replied, in a rough version of 'you're welcome', "I suppose so, as long as we're decent at it, we shouldn't have much of a problem."

Lisbon smiled, and began nodding off.

"I'm gonna head home for tonight, you should be discharged in the morning, get some rest, alright?" Rose said.

"Mhm." Lisbon muttered, already half asleep.

As she walked out, she thought. _Well, its nice to be back I suppose. Haha, just another day's work._

**Well, I hope you enjoyed, the idea for that popped into my head and I just had to write it! You know how it is. Anyhow, depending on how I split up the story, there's about 3-6 chapters left of this little fic. Not too long, not too short. But I will have a surprise for all of you at the end. Please read and review!**


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